


lost in the soft light, and so on

by biochemprincess



Category: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) - Fandom, Avengers: Infinity War - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Jane-centric, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biochemprincess/pseuds/biochemprincess
Summary: It's been over four years since the Snap and most have given up and moved on, or given up and not moved on. But there are still some left who continue to fight a hopeless battle.Well, she's only getting started.Jane has nothing but time on her hands and no distractions keeping her from her one task. The stars may not have the answer to her question this time, but she will find other ways to achieve it. She wants back what was taken from her.
Relationships: Jane Foster/Thor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	lost in the soft light, and so on

**Author's Note:**

> title: all my friends - dermot kennedy  
> alternate title of this fic: science and love will fix this mess (as always)
> 
> The fic consists of a present timeline and a past timeline. I didn't want to format half of the fic in italics, so the present timeline is numbered in words, while flashbacks are counting down in roman numerals. Both timelines are chronological in their order.

_one._

It's a lot greener than one would expect from a place so far away from the equator, even though it's her second time in the country.

Somehow she has Norway only associated with Aurora borealis, endless nights, and picturesque winter landscapes. A mistake on her part, she knows. 

Tønsberg is too far south to see Northern lights anyway. Or New Asgard, as it is called now. It's different from the original, but that's to be expected. It's still Earth. The lush, gilded kingdom in the middle of the endless expanse of the universe is gone, this is what the survivors have now.

Jane Foster stares down into the vast sea as the waves crash against rocks and the shore and breaths in the salty air. She has always been a "space" girl, but in this moment she thinks that marine biology could have its perks. The ocean too is mostly uncharted territory - wild, angry, relentless. Maybe they could be matched in power. 

The world feels different here, slower. Maybe it was a mistake coming here. She has no good explanation for what came over her in the first place. Just that she had woken up one day and couldn't take it anymore, living the way she did. 

She chose to come here, because it's far enough away from the world to help her get some peace of mind, yet still give her access to the internet. Trying yoga hasn't helped her in the least, not for the past years since the Snap at least. 

Nothing has helped - no alcohol, no medication, no screaming and crying could heal the gaping hole in her soul. Her ribcage had been a hollow prison of bones. How her body still functioned she doesn't know. 

It was easy, renting an apartment and leaving everything behind. Jane did even give her real name and nothing happened. It's foolish to think they'd never run into each other. He is the King of Asgard after all and for better or worse this place is all that's left of it. She has no plans to seek him out specifically, but also won't hide from him. 

Maybe she has chosen this place, because it will help her feel less lonely. 

She has been here for almost two weeks and nobody has said a word about it yet. Either nobody cared enough or her appearance really has gone unnoticed. Both versions suit her just fine. 

Jane only wants to breathe again. 

She _doesn't_ think about jumping from the cliff, becoming one with the water, having it shape her into something new. She only lets the wind blow around her still form, an obstacle to be conquered.

Maybe she'll wait around until after sunset, when the stars start to come out one by one, like old friends waving at her from a distance. Maybe she'll chase the moon on its journey above her.

It's all she has left nowadays just as it was in the days before she had found her family in strangers and friends - the comfort of stars. 

(A safe distance away somebody monitors Jane closely, keeping track of every suspicious move. Jane doesn't notice, her eyes glued to the flow of the tides.)

-

_x._

  
  


As far as break-ups go theirs is amicable, mutual, friendly.

It still sucks though.

Jane doesn't think any break-up where two people who still care about each other as much as they do decide to part ways, can be without some hurt. She does love him and she knows he loves her.

The part about love has never been their problem. 

They had clicked the night they had met in the middle of a thunderstorm in the desert of New Mexico, literal sparks flying as Darcy had tasered him. 

Jane loves him when he brings her coffee in the middle of the night, as she is burying herself under towers of science papers and she loves him when he smiles as they run towards the closest subway station in the middle of a thunderstorm and she loves him as they travel to conferences and explore her world together. 

And because she loves him, she would be the one who would take the first step in ending things between them. She has seen it for a while, the way his gaze strayed towards the night sky waiting for a herald to fall down like a shooting star bringing messages from home. 

Jane knows he misses his mother, her death still so fresh, a wound that has barely been able to heal. His brother is dead just as well and his ageing, grieving father sits on a throne that should be his already. 

And he is here, with her.

She loves him, but it is a terrible burden to be the anchor chaining him to her world, when his own needs him so desperately. Thor would never show it outright, never say a word, but the grain of doubt still takes root in her mind and it blooms, like flowers in spring. 

Here - with her - he is useless. A superhero, yes, but not irreplaceable. (Ultron has shown them their limits well enough.) Just as she is useless in Asgard. There is little use for a woman of science in a world that has an entirely different set up. She could make a place for herself there, but maybe it wouldn't be enough.

Their love, maybe it is a destruction, a supernova imploding. The stars, dying, and creating something new from the ashes; every atom breaking apart from its bond and returning to a new place among the universe. 

And just maybe it would be easier if the love was gone already, if they shattered dishes and spit venom with every spoken word. Hate is a fantastic motivator to move on with your life. 

Regardless, Jane pushes through it. So she does what has to be done. 

-

_two._

Her apartment is small, but it has all she needs. She can't see the sea through her windows, but still smell it. Unlike buildings in the city, the houses here are not flat-roofed as she's so used to, so instead of establishing her equipment on a rooftop terrace, she finds an abandoned shed a little farther outside and asks if she can rent it. (She can.) 

Jane doesn't need much more. She has a bed and a tiny kitchen, a bathroom and a work space set up. Not all, but the most important of her books have made the move with her. The tapestry is peeling from the walls in some corners, but otherwise it's fine and it has never mattered to her where exactly she lived. Or how. It's an upgrade to the camper in the desert, less sand in unwelcome places. 

Almost any surface is covered in stray papers, a few dog-eared, others as colourful as a rainbow marked with various highlighters. Jane had scourged the internet on any helpful thesis scientist all over the world had written. Most of it is shit. There is hypothesis after hypothesis, grasping for straws and reaching to untenable conclusions. It's a mess, to keep it short.

The science community had taken a severe hit, losing so many bright heads, and the rest of the survivors dealing with a fallout they hadn't been trained to withstand.

Jane knows what it means to fight giants with pebble stones, she remembers vividly how SHIELD had taken away her work all those years ago and "classified" it. The thing is, she still in many of SHIELD's emails addressing their science department and even they don't have a fucking clue on how to bring back all the people lost to the Infinity stones. 

It's been over four years and most have given up and moved on, or given up and not moved on. But there are still some left who continue to fight a hopeless battle. 

Well, she's only getting started. 

Jane has nothing but time on her hands and no distractions keeping her from her one task. The stars may not have the answer to her question this time, but she will find other ways to achieve it. 

She will not give up. Not until she has proven all theories wrong, not until her dying breath. _Magic is just science we don't understand yet_. Jane doesn't believe in miracles, but she believes in herself.

And maybe just a little bit - even though it's completely irrational - she believes that the close proximity to Thor and this land will bring her closer to her goal, just by being her lucky charm. It has worked before, all those years ago in the desert of New Mexico, under the stars, with sand under her nails. 

Two planetary bodies, orbiting each other. 

-

_ix._

  
  


Words are essentially needless, it turns out.

Somehow they have arrived at the same conclusion. Jane thinks so at least. As far as she can tell from the way his face tightens into a rigid mask at the suggestion of having dinner together. 

It shouldn't even be that surprising, giving that her cooking skills begin and end with breakfast and they almost always order or eat out. But then Jane is an exceptionally bad liar, still. She has tells and never finds the right words, always falling over one part of the sentence or the other. 

She orders sushi and more stuff from an Asian fusion restaurant, because Thor'd enjoyed it the last time they'd gone out to get it a while back. It's one of the few things Asgard doesn't have or a variation of it. There is their own version of pizza or tacos, but nobody has had the idea to put rice and fish together yet.

Maybe he'll bring it back with him when he leaves, she thinks.

"Do you want to talk about what is bothering you or will you continue to pretend everything is fine?" Thor asks and dips his avocado makizushi into the soy sauce. His fingers have accustomed to the sticks surprisingly well, he's better at it than she is. At the outright approach of the subject Jane almost suffocates on the spring roll she's swallowing.

"Let's finish eating, don't you think?" she mumbles, suddenly not as brave as she thought she'd be.

Thor accepts it wordlessly, pouring them both another glass of wine. Darcy had gotten her the bottle after an especially daunting paper of hers had finally been published, claiming it went well with fish - or so the guy selling it had told her. Jane has absolutely no idea, but it doesn't taste terrible and she likes the warmth pooling in her abdomen. Liquid courage has rarely done her wrong. 

She starts rambling about a new project she wants to start in an attempt to fill the awkward silence and he graciously lets her. Thor smiles at her, it even reaches his eyes, like what he beholds is a wonder to be preserved. 

Perhaps she should rethink her decision, perhaps they could make it work. What if long distance isn't so bad after all? Asgard has plenty of magical science to fall back on, maybe Heimdall could hold interstellar Skype sessions for them?

But then her gaze lands on Mjolnir hanging on her wardrobe hook and all her outlandish plans and futile hopes burst like soap bubbles. Thor will be King and a king needs a queen. And it would never be her, could never be her. 

Jane doesn't know a thing about ruling and she reckons her approval ratings wouldn't do him a favour. She is human, an intruder, a stranger. It wouldn't do either of them much good. 

Sometimes all the love in the nine worlds isn't enough to make it work out.

"I think you should return home," Jane says eventually. 

"Are you kicking me out, Jane?" Thor jokes, but it lacks humour. He knows what's coming. 

Words are escaping her. 

"I can see you -," Jane bites down her bottom lip, "- yearning. For home. And it's not me. Asgard needs you more than I do."

He puts away the chopsticks and focuses solely on her. "You could join me." 

"As your concubine?"

His face sours at the expression. He looks offended by her choice of words. "As my queen."

It's the closest to a proposal they've ever come and Jane really, truly, can't deal with it right now as she tries to break up with him. His utter faith in her is sweet, if a little misguided.

"I would be a distraction for you. And I... Your people would never accept somebody like me." 

"They would."

"Thor."

His arguments dissolve into thin air. "If that is what you wish."

Frustration surges within her. Of course it's not what she _wishes_ , not what she _wants_. But her wants and their needs are separate from each other and Jane could see no way to reconcile the two.

"What I want doesn't matter," Jane says. 

They finish the rest of their dinner in uncomfortable silence, but Jane doesn't even register the taste. Every bite feels like swallowing stones, turning to lead in her stomach. 

"I will go tomorrow, if you'll have me stay another night?" Thor looks expectantly at her, waiting for rejection. 

"Sure. It doesn't even have to be tomorrow," she proposes. "You can take time, if you need." 

He shakes his head slightly "I don't think I'll ever leave, if you give the promise of more than one night, Jane." 

_Oh_.

But she understands.

They do the dishes together, rinse the glasses. Mundane stuff, things you'd usually procrastinate, leave for another day. It is different when you know it's the last time you'll be doing it together. Even if it's nothing more than just another chore.

Tears threaten to overwhelm her - sadness and anger all mixing together into a cocktail she has no control of. The unfairness of the situation doesn't escape her, but in the end they were never meant to last. Thor may be the most important relationship in her entire life and she can be content with that, but it stings to know this will be their farewell.

"Jane." His voice is too soft, his calloused hands too gentle as they squeeze her shoulder.

She drops the half-finished plate in the sink, soapy water splashing, and instead turns towards him. She knows what she must look like, with the barely hidden watery eyes, red-rimmed and blotchy skin. Her palms are still wet as she grabs a handful of his t-shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

It's anything but gentle, worthy of the roaring noise in her head. Jane remembers their first kiss under the sizzling heat of the desert sound, as he had left her for the first time to do the right thing.

Thor gives as good as he gets, pulling her closer until there's not an inch between them. His hands wrap around her head, his thumb stroking her cheek. Their lips touching burns like a thousand torches being lit at once. She smells ozone in the air, static on her skin. His powers reacting to her is the highest compliment he has ever paid her and she is so grateful for this.

Cause and effect, the first law of thermodynamics. No energy is ever created and none is destroyed. So this kiss might echo into the aftermath of the universe forever, reaching until the ends of time and space. 

Years of practice have them stumble into the bedroom without knocking into furniture or breaking any lamps - unlike the first frenzied weeks of their relationship. 

They make it to their bed and he lays her down so gently, she might snap. Soft and gentle is about the last thing she wants right now. But as Jane takes a closer look at Thor's face - the reverence - something falters within her.

She gets it.

This will be their last time together, this is about remembering. She would burn this into her memory, engrave it into her soul so it would stay until her body would one day turn back to stardust and beyond. 

With her fingers Jane traces the lines of his eyebrows, his cheeks, his jaw. Then she follows the same path with her mouth again, all the while letting him hold her. 

They shed their clothes and when they are joined together, when he's inside her - finally - she breathes out and cries. Thor kisses away the tears.

They don't sleep a wink all night, too busy with mapping their bodies, cataloguing every moment. 

In the morning Thor packs his belongings, meagre as they are. Most of his stuff here is basically useless in Asgard. Jane reckons he might take them with him for sentimental value. 

She dearly hopes he'll remember her. 

"If somebody asks you can always say we mutually dumped each other," Jane says. 

Thor places a kiss on her forehead. "As long as we know the truth it will be enough."

"Think of me when your warrior friends chaff you about it." 

"I will always think of you," Thor replies.

It's a wish, but she'll take it. Jane watches as he walks out the patio, one last longing look between them. Then the pathway between worlds opens and light swallows him whole.

And Jane is left behind all alone.

It's for the best. 

-

_three._

A dark-skinned woman steps right in her way as Jane is just heading from getting groceries at the tiny store in the middle of town. She was out of milk. 

The woman is taller than her, lithe, with a muscular body. Her hands are crossed in front of her body. Jane has met enough warriors to recognise one when she sees one. And this woman is definitely one, reminiscent of the warriors Thor was friends with, yet different. Her eyes look more clouded, darker, as if she had weathered many storms. 

Jane stops in her tracks and waits. She doesn't want to come off as rude. Also she's curious. 

"You are Jane Foster." 

"Yes." 

"Why are you here?"

Jane had had weeks of time to prepare an answer for the question, but she doesn't have a satisfying one. "To vanish," falls from her lips involuntarily, but it's not a lie. 

It's the closest to the truth she comes to admit. It's what she has wanted since the Snap years ago. To vanish too, just as all the others had done. 

As always, surviving is just so much worse than dying. Death ends it all and there may be the regret of a life one didn't get to live, but they weren't there to feel any of it. The survivors had to shoulder the burden of remembering, of grieving. 

"Even I heard about you, you know."

Jane doesn't know exactly what the woman is trying to tell her, but she lets it slide. "What's your name?"

"You may call me Valkyrie." 

Jane blinks. "You're one of the Valkyries?" She'd read Norse myths to Freyja - books Erik had sent her as a present in his more lucid moments-, in an attempt to connect her with her father's heritage, and they were Jane's favourites. 

A shadow passes over her face as she answers, "The last one."

"I'm sorry then," she says. It comes from the heart. "If you ever need company, I'm sure you know where I live." 

Jane is trying to get better, with other people. She's lonely, she could use a friend. And the stone-faced Valkyrie, last of her kind, seems like not the worst start. She won't pull a Darcy, who befriended her against her will (at first), but there's a choice in bonding with those who carried similar sorrow. 

"I do," is the only answer Valkyrie offers her. She steps aside, an obvious gesture to get rid of Jane and the unexpected turn of their conversation. 

"See you around," Jane says as she leaves.

-

_viii._

  
  


"What's wrong with you?" Darcy asks, tapping her pen in a rhythm only she can hear.

Jane almost drops her glasses into her tea. She virtually never drinks tea, not even black one. It reminds her too much of her mother, who once thought a good cup of tea could solve any problem. 

Well, it hadn't. 

"What?"

Darcy animatedly gestures at her. "Look at yourself. You're all weird and withdrawn. Like, you're not drinking coffee. I know you well enough by now to spot your irrational behaviour when I see it."

"I'm not irrational."

"You're the crazy scientist they warn you about in cartoons, except you look like a fairy. I'm aware of this and I love you." Darcy puts a hand over her heart. "But you're so... unlike you."

Jane heaves a deep sigh. There's a headache building at her temples. 

"Can we focus on something else?" she asks.

"Nope. Is it about the breakup? We can have a girls night out if you need one?" 

"Darcy."

"It will be great. Getting out will be good for you. We'll go to the happy hour in that cocktail bar down the street."

"Darcy."

"Or, even better, let's have a spa day? Get really pampered with those ugly mud clay masks."

"I'm pregnant."

That shuts her up for good, which is a rare occurrence on its own. Her former intern does talk a lot when the day is long. 

"Excuse you?" Darcy asks, once she recovers. 

"Don't make a big deal of it."

Jane's trying to be nonchalant about it, tries to keep her cool, but truth be told she's freaking out about.

It's been four days since the positive pregnancy test and her brain hasn't worked at full capacity since. Everything is clouded in a fog of disbelief and uncertainty. 

She's on the pill for god's sake, she doesn't even know how it happened. (Well, she most definitely knows _how_. And when. With whom. It just isn't any help. Because it should not have happened.)

Darcy clears her throat to get her attention again. "Earth to Jane, it is a big deal. You're having a baby. That's like, the biggest of deals."

"I guess," Jane shrugs.

"Or not?"

Jane doesn't know what kind of mother she'd be. Nobody does before they are, she figures, but it scares her. Her own mother has been gone for so long now she barely remembers her face at all. 

"It's Thor's?" Darcy keeps firing questions at her, like darts in a dingy bar.

Jane gives her a look in lieu of an answer. She hadn't done anything but lose herself in her work, and brood these past few weeks. Her contact with other people basically boiled down to Darcy and whoever delivered her food order and none of them had stayed long enough at her door to impregnate her.

"Unless I'm the next Virgin Mary, yes."

"Yeah, of course. So have you sent news to the great halls of the gods?"

"No," Jane answers, unexpectedly certain of her decision. She doubts it would do them any good. "And I won't."

"You realise you're carrying the heir to the throne in your womb, right? You're the Kate Middleton of Asgard."

She's really not, but she's also really not in the mood to discuss it - at all.

She takes another sip of her tea, but only scrunches her nose at the taste. It's cold and gross. The next item on her mental to-do list is buying decaf coffee. Right after getting a doctor's appointment. 

"Let's get back to work. I need to finish this chapter, the publisher has me on a deadline."

"So we're just going to ignore this," Darcy says. It comes out judgy, at least to Jane's ears. 

"What do you want me to say? This isn't what I've planned. I'm trying to wrap my head around it and I'm obviously not very good at it."

"Hey, I'm sorry. Just trying to help. I'm here, I'm gonna be the fun aunt and teach your kiddo how to live a little when they're older."

Jane lets out a hoarse laugh. "What makes you think I can't?"

"Have you met yourself, Doctor Foster?"

Somehow it makes her feel better.

-

_four._

There's persistent knocking at her door. Jane drops one of her earbuds, and yes, she's not started hallucinating yet. 

(In the weeks after the Snap, she'd sometimes woken from fitful sleep, hearing faint echoes of Freyja crying, giggling. Sometimes she'd helped them along on purpose by forgoing sleep for days until the insomnia had turned her unreliable, to finally have even just a slip of her child back.)

Jane opens the door and finds Valkyrie standing in her doorway. 

"You are here to visit him," Valkyrie offers as a starter to the conversation. Surprisingly it is both question and answer at the same time, while being neither. 

Who she means goes without question. 

"Not really," Jane deflects. She isn't, _not really_.

Valkyrie raises an eyebrow, her mouth mocking her. "Is that so?"

Jane stares straight ahead, outside the window right at the moon hanging full in the sky. 

"Do you want coffee?" she asks, her only go-to reaction when godlike people visit her living space.

"I'm good."

Valkyrie keeps her hands crossed in front of her chest, still waiting for an answer. She looks like a woman used to waiting, like a relentless hunter waiting for prey. She's a warrior through and through, even Jane can see that.

But there other mimics too - how her eyes stray towards the cabinet with the bottles of wine, the tick in her jaw, the throat as she swallows dry air. 

"I have tried to clear my mind. I have gone into the desert and I have secluded myself in a cabin in the woods. Now I'm here. I don't want to intrude."

"What do you have to gain?"

"What do I have to lose?"

A flash of something passes in Valkyrie's eyes, but it is gone as quickly as it comes. 

"There's nobody left on Earth - or above and below - I care about. Everybody is gone. Kick me out of your community if you feel better, I won't hold it against you. But I only wish to find peace," Jane says. 

As she says it, she knows it's the whole truth she has to give. The vaults of her soul are empty. 

"I have heard stories about you, Jane Foster. Not from Thor, he doesn't talk about anything from before. But others who have met you. You left quite the impression."

"No need to sugarcoat it, I'm aware they didn't trust the human their crown prince brought to their doors." 

Valkyrie doesn't deny it. The honesty is refreshing.

Jane does her best to keep the bitterness at bay, but even she can hear it in her voice. All of her has grown bitter and distant over the past years, an abandoned home covered in thorn bushes.

"Some do keep telling the story about the brave woman who contained the Aether and saved the realm."

"That woman is gone," Jane asserts. Something had broken inside her the day of the Snap. Missing Freyja is the most prominent emotion, but it's not only her. There's nobody left anymore - Darcy, Erik, gone just as well. 

The fuzzy connection she has to Thor is basically the only kind of thread there is left. 

Valkyrie's face softens the longer she looks at her. Jane feels oddly scrutinised. Pity is a sentiment lost on her. She's never been good at condolences, neither giving nor receiving. 

"I know what it's like. To be the lone survivor."

"How did you deal with it?" Jane asks. 

"Fucked off to another planet and started drinking, not necessarily in that order."

There is more to the story Jane can tell, but she doesn't pry. "Why did you return to Asgard?"

"The prince found me. Couldn't get rid of him."

"He has a habit of doing that." 

"Listen," Valkyrie leans forward. "Thor's not always doing well at the moment. It'll get better in spring, I guess. And I'm not sure if seeing you would help him or make it worse."

"What do you mean?"

"We all deal with our grief differently," is the only thing Valkyrie offers.

"I see."

"Of course you can stay. Nobody is being turned away from here. "

"I won't cause any disruption, I promise."

Valkyrie nods and rises from the table. "Thank you for having me."

"No problem."

"You may call me Brunnhilde," Valkyries says before she steps over the threshold and leaves. 

-

_vii._

Her daughter is born on a Thursday in February. She goes without a name for days after her birth.

It's difficult to pick one when the options are limitless. Somehow Jane doesn't want to give her a name as plain as her own, yet doesn't want to go entirely overboard like some starlets she's seen on TV. It's a fine line to walk on, given that it's a decision for the rest of her daughter's life. 

All the months of her pregnancy she's thought she'd have more time to be prepared, but it all passed by so quickly and now she's somebody's mother and doesn't even know what name to give her.

Jane has a one on the tip of her tongue, one she thinks is fitting, but she doesn't yet have the courage to actually speak it into existence. Mostly her body just hurts, she is terribly tired and unable to form a coherent thought. The nights are so short and while Darcy is wonderful, helping her adjust to her new reality as a mother, this is something she cannot shoulder for Jane. 

It's 2am and Jane has finally gotten the baby to be quiet for a few minutes since it's gotten dark and feels like she just won the Nobel prize. She doesn't know how other mothers do it. 

Deep down she wishes for Thor to be with her. Call him or send him a picture of their daughter. Tell him, look what we made. This certain brand of pride has surged from deep under the surface the moment the girl was born and it hasn't faded since. 

But she doesn't regret keeping it a secret from him and she will stand by her choice. It's better for the both of them if he never finds out, for the three of them. 

Jane puts one of the dirty cloth diapers she used to burp the baby in the washing machine and then heads for the coffee maker. Even though she only drinks decaf at the moment, the taste has a placebo effect after all the years of Pavlovian conditioning. Ring a bell, be awake.

Outside on the patio of her apartment a golden glow illuminates the pitch-black night, a flash of rainbow amidst the dark. For a single second she wonders if she's hallucinating it, until she sees the man standing in front of the glass door. His golden armour gleams in the meagre light passing through from her living room. 

He does not knock, does not wave. He only walks up towards the door and waits to be let in.

-

_five._

Jane hikes through the nearby woods in search for a good place for her latest experiment. The ground is soft from the recent rain and soon her boots are stained with mud. She tries her best to not slip on the wet leaves. 

She didn’t lie when she told Brunnhilde she’s here to vanish. She is. But there is another reason. Norway is the place the gods descended, the birthplace of the Norse myths. The veil is thinner here and Jane desperately hopes it will make the construction of her bridge easier.

A flurry of her activity catches her attention and she follows the noises. There, only a few hundred yards away on a small clearing, she finds what she hoped to avoid. Of course she knew he’d be here - it’s his town - but it’s different when it’s real instead of a scenario in her head. There is a group of children he seems to be babysitting and the sight is a punch to the gut. 

Jane remembers he's good with children, he knows he would have made a wonderful father if their lives were different and the fates kinder. 

Without warning he turns his head towards her, as if he has sensed her presence by sheer force of will. She’s a deer caught in the headlights of his attention. 

"Jane."

"Thor."

They stare ahead, both of them waiting for the other one to say something. Jane makes inventory of her surroundings. Sunshine is filtering through the trees, bathing the clearing in bright daylight. 

They haven't seen each other in close to a decade, years having passed between then and now and it shows. There are new wrinkles around her eyes, lines around her mouth. 

And then there's Thor.

It's... a thing.

Jane doesn't judge. 

Grief is a terrible monster, it rips you apart and twists you into something new. She knows, because for the first weeks after Freyja's disappearance she lived off of nothing but caffeine, protein bars and vodka, until she fainted every time she tried to stand up. She had looked the opposite of him, but it had been an unhealthy coping mechanism just as well. She had gotten singularly focused, too wrapped up in her anger to take care of her body. 

In some way he reminds her of Odin, more than he ever has - the additional weight, the beard and his long, braided hair have that effect.

But Thor doesn't look unhappy. He doesn't look happy either, but there is a look of care on his face as he watches the ragtag bunch of his wreak havoc on his l

"What are you doing here?" he asks, after a pause. In the background Jane can still hear the bunch of children yelling, playing some kind of tag game between the mighty trees. 

"I...", she blanks, once again. "I don't know, to be honest. I think I wanted to run away, a little."

Thor nods. "New Asgard is good for this. Hiding."

"Yeah."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Maybe it's not the worst idea, to spend some time together. But then it wasn’t the worst idea to spend one last night together and the consequences have almost cost her her sanity. 

"I can’t." The end of the sentence sounds closer to a question mark than a full stop, but Thor nods at her rejection just as regal as you’d expect a king to do.

"Can we go for a walk instead?" he suggests.

She wants to say yes, so she does allow herself this. “Sure. What about the kids though?"

Thor points at the guy made of rocks standing nearby. "They like Korg more than me anyway. He's the funnier guy." 

Jane dares not to look too closely. She keeps a healthy distance from any child. She's never been good with them to begin with and now it just hurts far too much. "What's up with them anyway?"

A gust of wind hits them and Jane pulls her beanie lower on her head to cover her ears. The weather is the opposite from New Mexico. 

"It boosts morale, to have them around."

"Theirs or yours?"

Thor smiles gently. "Both. They are the future we have left." 

He takes the lead, following a beaten trail deeper into the heart of the wood. The ground is lightly dusted with snow, but most of it doesn’t make it through the thick treetops. It’s serene, quiet once they are farther away from the kids. 

Jane could stay here forever, grow roots and forget the world outside exists. She looks up, but sees only glimpses of the sky. No, she couldn’t stay forever. She’d miss the stars. The lines of the constellations are too familiar to her. She’d get lost without their guidance. 

The silence between eats at her. Jane is scared she’ll say the wrong thing and accidentally reveal her deepest secret by simply opening her mouth. So she says the first thing that comes to her mind.

"Thanos is dead."

_Wonderful._

"I know. I was the one who killed him."

Huh. She hadn't known that. There is a certain kind of vindication blooming in her chest thinking about the image of it. The revenge for Freyja executed by her father. Who doesn’t even know he has a daughter. Jane wants to turn around and flee from New Asgard, maybe the continent. 

"But it changed nothing," Thor continues. They walk up a small hill, the wind a steady companion on their track. "Even with his head in my hand I felt no justice. My people are still gone, my friends, half of humanity. I got revenge, but the outcome is still the same." 

Jane mulls over the words. She’s impulsive to a fault. She remembers the time she slapped Loki simply and even he’d never sunken as low as Thanos. In her daydream scenarios she imagines herself as judge, jury and executioner at once. She thinks it would bring her satisfaction, but Thor is right - it wouldn’t bring her Freyja back. 

They walk in silence until it gets dark, until finally the stars are visible. They say goodbye without a single touch exchanged. Back home in her apartment she still feels long gone imprints on her skin. 

-

_vi._

Jane lets out a deep sigh. It would've been too easy to fly under his radar, he who sees everything. It would've happened sooner or later anyway, better to get it out of the system. She opens the door and motions for him to come inside. He does and closes the door behind him.

"Heimdall."

"Lady Jane."

"What gives me the honour?" she asks.

Heimdall raises an eyebrow. "Let's not waste our time fooling ourselves, what do you think?" 

Jane shrugs. "Sure, saves a lot of time. Did he send you?"

"I sent myself. Thor doesn't know." 

The information is a relief. Yet Jane shouldn't feel crushing disappointment. She's too tired for her conflicting feelings. 

She gestures for Heimdall to take a seat at the table, but all the chairs are occupied with various stuff. "I'll only bother you shortly, standing is fine."

Jane pours herself coffee. "You want a cup too?" 

"Thank you, but no. I have never developed a taste for Midgardian beverages, with a few exceptions."

"Shame, Thor always liked coffee." Then, fueled by curiosity: "Define exceptions."

"I do enjoy Pina Coladas." 

Jane blinks, making a mental note of this information. Conversations with Asgardians always took the weirdest turns. Like that one time Odin compared her to a goat. 

"You've kept an eye on me, huh?"

Heimdall locks his gaze on her, a heavy weight, ancient. "What kind of guardian would it make me if I let you out of sight?"

She ponders the question. "One who has more on his plate than to watch a random astrophysicist and her newborn." 

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't press the subject. "As it is, I am currently out of a job. I live in exile. Somebody else is guarding the Bifrost." The words are calm, but he speaks with gritted teeth, through a mouthful of glass shards.

Jane almost chokes on her coffee. She can see how it grates on him to speak those worse. "Did you quit or were you fired?" 

Heimdall looks like he wants to roll his eyes, before he thinks better of it. "It's complicated," he says. 

"For you and me both, buddy. I'm sorry though." 

"I appreciate it." He looks at her baby. "Can I hold her?"

Instinct tells her to forbid it, giving her out of her own hands, but she finds herself nodding. "If you wake her I'll murder you though."

Heimdall laughs softly. "I'll take the risk." 

Gentler than Jane would've expected him to be, he reaches in the crib and picks her baby up, as if she weighed less than a feather. To an Asgardian it might even be true.

"What is her name?" Heimdall asks then. "It is the one thing I don't know."

Jane hesitates for a singular moment. 

"Freyja." 

Something clicks into place then, like she found the solution to a problem she's worked on for ages, the perfect line of code. It fits and she doesn't regret it. 

His gaze on her burns, but Jane doesn't look away. 

"A worthy name. The All-Mother would have been delighted to hear it, I am certain. So would Thor." 

"You won't tell him about her." Not a question, but an order.

"No I won't. I think it would do more harm than good. His focus is set on other urgent matters right now. It would prove to be a distraction nobody can afford." 

Jane finds herself nodding along to his reasoning. "Thank you."

Heimdall softly rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet, a subtle golden glow emitting from his shining armour. It's a fascinating sight. 

"I'll give you a warning. You may not judge and you may not speak of it."

"I'm all ears."

"The cosmos is in a state of turmoil. The Convergence was only the start, the universe has not recovered from it yet. I had to flee Asgard, because Loki has once again faked his own death."

"What?" Jane can't believe what she's hearing. Which is surprising in itself, because of course he'd get out of death another time. He had more lives than a goddamn cat.

"Loki is currently posing as Odin. Before I could reveal his foul play, I had to yield my place. Asgard is not at its former strength, but he hasn't yet turned it to shambles. It'll have to do for now."

Heimdall puts his free hand on top of Freya's head. "Thor is none of Loki's concern right now, but an heir to the throne would be a thorn in his plans. I advise you to be careful."

"Will he harm her?" Janes tries to keep her voice from trembling.

"I'd like to hope his late mother's influence on him would keep him from it, but Loki has always been unpredictable," Heimdall answers truthfully. He puts his hand in a hidden pocket of his armour and procures a necklace from it.

It's made of pure gold and has a soft, preternatural glow to it. On it is a small round pendant with an ember in the middle of it. Heimdall puts it around Freyja and fastens the clasp around her small neck. 

"This is Brisingamen. It's an old artefact from the treasure chambers of Asgard. It's suffused with magic. It will protect her, shape her powers, shield her from his gaze. It's a safety measure."

"Thank you." Jane knows she needs all the help she can get. 

Heimdall places Freyja back in her crib, her sleep undisturbed. 

“I should head back,” he says. “I cannot be gone for too long.”

“Stay safe,” Jane says. The things he told her worry her. Heimdall may see everything, but even he couldn’t be prepared for everything. Nobody was. 

He smiles. “So do you. Do not hesitate to call for me should the occasion arise.” 

“I will.”

Without anything left to say Heimdall heads for the door to her patio, ready to depart to wherever he is hiding.

“Until we meet again, Lady Jane.” 

(It will be the last time she sees him.)

-

_six._

Thor writes her a letter. It reads _Come have dinner with us_ and against her own reservations she does. They aren’t alone just as he wrote, Korg and Brunnhilde are there just as well, and it makes the evening much easier. No expectations, no disappointments. 

For the first time in so many years she has fun. She almost doesn’t trust the feeling, too scared it will prove to be fickle. All happiness is temporary, but she basks in the warmth of companionship as they share food and laughter. 

They have dinner again; and again. They go for walks, as a group and alone. They binge Netflix, and play board games and Fortnight. 

Jane doesn’t forget her goal, she works on her trials and cancels sleep if it fits her plans. There is a gaping hole in the chest from all the people forcefully ripped from her life and it feels wrong to replace them. 

She knows it’s not what she does - she is moving forward, living a real life instead of its poor shadow. But there is a logic and reason and there’s what her heart tells her and despite being a scientist, logic sometimes loses. 

Brunnhilde even teaches her how to use a sword and doesn’t laugh when she almost falls over with every parry; when her arms vibrate from the impact of power. “You need more muscles,” the valkyrie laughs. 

It’s more fun than the yoga classes she did in London, because it gives her an outlet for her pent up energy. This is active instead of passive, more suited to her personality. 

Jane isn’t immediately good at it, which bugs her and her perfectionism to some degree, but she gets better. It’s worth the stiffness in her upper arms. Sometimes Thor watches them fight. It’s when she’s at her best and at her worst. She can feel his eyes on her even when she isn’t looking. 

Their kind of love was immediate, all-consuming. She burned so bright when they were still together, like fire, like Freyja. Their love must've bestowed their daughter her powers, just as overwhelming. 

Jane doesn't allow herself to become his lover again, even if every time he speaks in his gentle voice her eyes a fixated on his lips, even if she looks at him and wants to be with him again. She can't burn again. The fire would reduce her to ashes. Every cure has a lethal dose, every action generates a reaction. 

But Jane allows herself to be his friend. It must be enough, even if it's not. 

-

_v._

Jane waits.

For the other shoe to drop, for cosmic intervention, for the good things to perish.

Every morning she wakes up to find Freyja still with her feels like a victory she does not deserve. There are no interruptions - Heimdall keeps good on his promise, he keeps his distance. And if there are other powers with the knowledge of her daughter's existence, then they too keep away. 

Freyja is, in general, a happy child. She cries rarely, always in good spirits. And sometimes, she glows. It's subtle when she is a newborn, shimmering under the surface. As the weeks pass it happens more often, like basking in the glow of the sun. 

Whenever she is giggling, because Jane pulls a funny grimace, Freyja starts to shine like a star. 

It's cute and adorable and it scares the living shit out of her. Because Jane knows about the powers contained in the stars, knows the sun would reduce the world to ash if it wasn't the perfect distance away. Balance is a fickle thing. 

Jane is content with the way it, watching the development of her daughter's power closely. Time passes, there is nothing out of the ordinary.

Until the snake incident. 

Because one morning Jane finds a nest of snakes manifesting in Freyja's playpen. There are half a dozen of them - huge and hissing. 

"Freyja," Jane yells and runs towards the girl. But she's sitting, laughing at the reptiles. One of them lunges at her before Jane can get to her. With her chubby fingers Freyja grabs at the reptile and in a flash of light reduces it to ash.

All of her body is glowing then, so bright Jane has to close eyes and shield them with her hands too or fear of going blind. It's white, like a supernova exploding. She can feel as it is over, listens to Freyja's upset hiccups and dares to open her eyes again. Immediately Jane picks up her daughter and holds her close to her chest.

The snakes are nothing more than a pile of ash.

The message is clear enough. 

-

  
  


_seven._

Jane would never admit it, but maybe she should have consulted with somebody else before trying the newest version of her wormhole generator first thing in the morning, before she even had her second mug of coffee. Just... maybe.

Because some of the parameters are all wrong and, just maybe, on too high on the power scale and, well.

It all blows up.

Maybe.

One second she is upright, adjusting the levels and the next moment debris is raining down on her. There's smoke filling her lungs, ashes in her eyes. She can feel a burning sensation on her skin. She's lying on her stomach, half-turned, her face pressed to the ground.

Her ears are ringing from the explosion, her sight unfocused. 

She wants to move, but can't, belatedly realising the pieces of the barn she uses as her outside laboratory pressing down upon her. She can't get out from under the wooden planks. 

With all the rest of her energy she struggles to wiggle out of it like a trapped animal, but it's of no use. It won't move. Her eyes grow tired. Maybe she should have just a quick nap, maybe somebody would look after her then.

Darkness comes, sweeping her away.

When Jane wakes again she's in a cosy room, tucked under a warm blanket. There is a steady pain inside her skull, as if a metal drilled deep into her brain. Outside she can see the sun setting over the sea. The sharp pain hurts just as well. She doesn't know how long she's been out of it, but can deduce from this that it must've been at least a day. 

Her arms are bandaged in white gauze. There's an IV in the crook of her left elbow. Wonderful. She hates hospital - or any medical procedures - but is thankful she was unconscious for it all. She wiggles with her toes - as a test - and finds them obeying her commands. 

Her bladder has an opinion on the situation too.

The bag of fluids is hooked to an immovable stand. Jane takes it down quickly, carrying it awkwardly with her on her quest to find a toilet. Her muscles burn, the skin under the bandages itches. When she finally finds one, the relief is real. 

The way back to the bed feels like a track up snowy mountains to the highest peak. She's out of breath by the time she sinks back onto the mattress. Her ribs hurt, cracked, maybe. 

"Jane." 

She turns her head in time to watch Thor come through the door. He's at her side so suddenly it gives her whiplash. His hand grasps her cheek and turns it towards his face. It's almost as they were before - so many years ago in her apartment in London as they spent the nights with each other in lieu of sleep. 

Thor must remember too - as well as remember it's not the past anymore - and let's go of her.

"You gave us all quite the scare," he says.

Jane nods. 

"What is it you're doing out there?"

"I'm trying to build a wormhole, much like the Einstein-Rosen-Bridge. Heimdall's Bridge. But instead of travelling through distance, I want it to be a way through time." The words bubble up from inside her and spill over like overheated milk. Jane hadn't meant to be so honest, but the truth is the option.

Thor's expression turns to pity and it hurts to be on the receiving end of it. "There's only forward I have learned."

"Not if I have a say in the matter," Jane retorts. 

She must look like the mad scientist people have compared her to all her life, finally having transitioned fully into the stereotype. She's unable to explain it to him in a waxü he'll understand, not without giving up her biggest secret.

"I'm glad you're alright," he says. "I'll leave you to get dressed."

Maybe opening Pandora's box wouldn't be the worst thing. 

The part of her that wants to tell him about Freyja begs her to let him stay, let him watch her undress. Show him the stretch marks on her belly, the soft skin that never quite bounced back, the C-section scar that still hasn't fully faded after over six years. 

Her body is a memorial, marked by Freyja's existence. As long as she lives her daughter's memory will live too. 

Jane rarely lets herself think about the passage of time. 

Time stopped having any meaning altogether the moment her daughter turned to dust. 

She wants to show him and scream, _Look what I am!_ Rage is her best friend, always coursing through her veins. She's ready to fight the universe with her bare hands every single day.

But she doesn't - make him stay, fight the universe. They are finally friends again, after being strangers and then lovers, apart and together. They have been doing it all in the wrong order - too fast and backwards and twisted under the pressure of tradition and alien powers. She's too much a coward to risk it. 

Jane watches as Thor leaves the room and then slowly starts to shed the hospital gown and puts on loose yoga pants and an oversized hoodie. 

What would be the point anyway?

-

_iv._

It's just another day, one of so many that it shouldn't matter. But it will matter, Jane just doesn't know it yet. 

The sky overhead the city is cloudy, but temperatures are warm and it's the perfect day for a trip to the Royal Botanic Gardens.

Freya is singing to herself in the living room, dancing to the rhythm of a song on the radio. It's adorable how she's trying to imitate the movements of adults, almost so much Jane gets caries. She knows evolution is to blame, hormones and genetic selection, but to her there's no sweeter, smarter, kinder, child than her own daughter. She could watch her forever. 

Jane puts some snacks and water bottles in her diaper bag. "Come on, let's put sunscreen on your face," she says.

"Mama, no." It's her two favourite words, probably any two year olds. 

"Not negotiable." 

Jane takes the tube of sunblock from the dresser and slowly approaches Freyja, as if she were a T-Rex waiting to attack its prey. Her daughter runs to the couch and buries her face in the cushions. 

Laughter is echoing from the walls, there is happiness. 

A sudden sensation takes hold of Jane's nerve system, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Objectively there's nothing wrong, but she can feel that something isn't right. Her heart beats faster, her blood feels as if it's boiling in her veins.

Freyja raises into a sitting position on the couch. " _Mama_." Out of pure instinct Jane reaches for her. She feels her tiny hand in her own, her warmth, the sweaty stickiness all children exhibit. Jane looks into her face, smiling at her through the panic taking hold of her.

But in one moment - barely the blink of an eye - Freyja's body dissolves, molecule by molecule. It looks like dust, like ashes. Jane wants to scream, but any sound dies in her throat. With her arms she tries to catch Freyja, but the dust only spreads until there's nothing left.

_Nothing._

Finally Jane screams. She doesn't stop. From the streets below she hears people shout, cars crash, sirens howl. Pandemonium. She doesn't register what it means. 

It doesn't matter.

Still Jane screams her voice hoarse. 

She has survived everything life has thrown at her - orphanhood, superheroes, monsters from outer space - but this is what will kill her. 

This is the end of the world - worse even. The world still turns, but it does so without Freyja in it. 

Something inside Jane breaks irreparably. 

-

  
  


_eight._

  
  


Everything is fine until the day Bruce Banner and a weird racoon who talks arrive at their doorsteps. Banner is surprised by her presence as much as she’s surprised by his new physique. 

They talk about time travel and Tony Stark and Jane swallows a long forgotten feeling of jealousy. She can’t believe the man outsmarted her. But it doesn’t matter. There is a real, tangible chance of victory on the horizon.

Of course they go with them, it’s no choice at all. Nothing to be lost, everything to be gained. 

It's the original six Avengers, as well as Rocket, and Scott Lang. And her. A merry group of heroes and scientists trying to achieve the impossible. 

Hindsight is 20/20, they say. 

If she'd packed her work laptop instead of her private one - not that there's much of a difference except for what's currently being projected onto the screen in front of a dozen people - she'd have been saved from giving an explanation on the subject.

It's rather obvious what they're looking at, given that Jane has picked her favourite photo of Freyja as her background and it's not subtle at all. 

It's from her second Halloween and she's dressed in a little white costume almost like a ghost; but for the symbol of magnesium cut out from an oversized periodic table and she's burning bright white, like a flame. 

The picture is her favourite because of Freyja's smile - as bright and luminous as the light she's emitting. Happy. Her daughter had been happy.

Jane glances over at Thor, who is completely focused on the background on the screen. As if feeling her eyes on him he turns and she can read every single of his emotions on his face - confusion, understanding, hurt.

She silently begs him to be quiet, to not make a scene right here, to wait until they are alone later. She'll accept his disappointment, his anger.

She will not beg for his forgiveness.

He turns back again, giving the picture another look. 

There's something to her grief even Jane can't understand after all this time - it doesn't heal, time does, in fact, not make it better.

She's lost so many people, but Freyja is the one that undoes her in her deepest, even though she's only known her for such a short amount of time.

Anger is a terrible motivator to keep on living, but it's all she has. Pure rage runs through her veins, it lets her get up in the morning, wears her out so much she can find some solace during her sleeping hours.

It hollows out her bones until they are brittle, fragile. Jane wouldn't survive the Aether nowadays, she ponders. She'd absorb it and never give it back, would rather burn in the flames than feel powerless again.

"Fuck off, Stark." It's unkind and unwarranted and she should apologise, but she doesn't. 

Tony pulls his hand away, but he keeps close by. The bastard doesn't even look offended. Maybe he saw her that one time, maybe he understands the risk they are taking.

He has something to lose after all. Jane gives him a soft smile as an excuse.

"Who is the girl?" Bruce asks in a tone that betrays he already guesses the answer. 

"My daughter," Jane snaps, opening program after program to hide the background from prying eyes. 

Freya has only ever been hers. Until she was nobody's. 

If Jane would drop dead in this very moment any memory of her would be gone as well, a second death. 

"We need to intercept after the Snap, but before Thanos destroys the stones. It's a small timeframe as far as we've previously established."

"Why can't we just undo it?" Steve asks.

"Grandfather paradox," a choir answers in unison. Jane looks at Tony, who looks at Scott, who looks at Bruce, who looks at her. 

"Nerds," Natasha says, but her lips curl into a fond smile. "Just speaking the truth." 

"What has my grandfather to do with it?" Rocket asks. "We're gonna resurrect him?" 

"Let's say you go back to your own past and kill your grandfather before they can conceive your mother or father? Then you'd never be born and could never travel back in time in the first place," Bruce explains.

"Which is why you have to time travel without changing the time line itself," Jane says.

"How?" Steve asks.

"Like I said. We travel back to 2018, get the stones after Thanos has decimated everything, but before he destroys them. That's the tricky part. And then we travel back and use them." 

"Wait, we don't use them right away?" Barton throws in.

"We can’t, because Grandfather. If everyone returned right away there'd be no reason for us to travel to the past to save them. We could possibly manage it, using Scott's particles and if we assume the Deutschian time travel theory of self-consistency holds up instead, but would possibly create a different universe in its wake," Jane explains. "And that's risky, because it's less predictable and more unstable." 

"Let me get this straight? We are going to let Thanos kill half of the population, then take his stones away before he can destroy them, and we don't do anything with them for five full years?" Clint's summary makes it sound about as bad as it is, but it hits the nail on the head. 

"There is a certain wisdom in suffering," Thor offers, the first words he's said since seeing Freyja's picture. Jane finds herself agreeing with him.

They all look at each other, contemplating the backbone of their plan. It's not perfect by any means, but it's the closest to a solution Jane has felt in ages. She can almost taste the breakthrough. 

"Getting the stones is one part of the problem," Tony says, his gaze wandering between their group. "Using them is the second one."

Jane lets out a breath. 

"The gauntlet is impossible to wield for one of us alone. It would cost a life," Thor says. "The stones are as old as the universe, their power is without boundaries." 

"Wasn't Janie here host to one of them once?" Tony offers. All eyes are on here now.

"And it almost killed her in the process," Thor says immediately. 

Jane wants to rebel against his protectiveness, but he's right. "I could do it again, probably. The Aether, at best, because it's familiar. But not all of them." Maybe not even the Aether anymore, she thinks, but doesn't voice it.

Sometimes she still wakes in the middle of the night with the phantom pain of the Aether running through her body, like an electric current. It's not pain per se, more a lingering of what once was. 

"We split them up," Bruce says then. "Jane gets the Aether, Carol will take care of the Tesseract, since it's the original source of her power. The other four will go between four of the rest of us."

Silence builds inside the room as they all let the idea fester and grow. 

"It's dangerous," Steve cautions. 

"Less dangerous than one of us using all six at once," Natasha argues. "And it will stop us from being fucking martyrs." 

Nat looks directly at Tony and Steve when she says it. 

"High horse, Nat," Rogers says. Natasha only shrugs. 

"We build a lens to bundle and focus the stones as one," Tony mumbles. He has this far away look on his face, as if he were a million miles away. 

"Could work," Bruce says. Scott nods along as well. 

Jane thinks it through, from one angle to another. It's dangerous, no matter which way they go. But it's a promising lead and they have the power to act on it - with science, with strength, with passion. 

As her gaze falls back on Thor she realises that the worst part of today is yet ahead of her. 

-

_iii._

Time never stretches into eternity during boring lectures about inaccurate data. She almost falls asleep in her chair. The conference is nothing but a waste of time. 

Jane hasn't been to New York in quite a while and she does almost regret coming. She thought she would gain more insight into current scientific research, but there is little of interest for her. 

Half of her colleagues vanished with the Snap and the rest has barely recovered from the loss. Science needed every single human mind and their ideas and input, every life lost was as much a personal as a greater tragedy. And just like everywhere else, the ghosts of those who are lost follow them around all day and cloud the entire experience. 

The people here have considered quite a few different approaches to bringing back those who were lost and the psychological damage it has done on the survivors. The battle line between the living and the gone has been drawn randomly, not a single rational reasoning could be found. Maybe that's what bothers them all the most - not the loss, which is terrible in itself, but the randomness of it when every life is valuable, worth saving. 

Jane decides she'll skip the dinner. She isn't in the mood for small talk, she only wants to go back to her room, read through all the PowerPoints and see if she can filter something useful for her own experiments. She does not expect to gain much from it, but at least it will pass the time until she passes out from exhaustion and sleep deprivation. 

Her moods are like the tides, ever-changing. Sometimes there are better times, and sometimes she wants to keep the curtains drawn and sleep until it passes again. She tries her best to keep herself entertained, as to not slip back into the darkness again. 

The hotel is huge, a vast expanse of hallways with carpeted floors and numbered rooms. The way from the conference hall back to her room takes a good ten minutes. Jane rubs her eyes just a tad too hard, until flashes of white appear behind her eyelids. There is definitely another cup of coffee in her near future. 

As she turns a corner on the way to the elevators, she sees a familiar face out of the corner of her eyes. 

Jane stops that in her tracks. Only a room apart, in an outdoor garden with the sun sinking between the skyscrapers in the background, stands Tony Stark. And he's not alone. Pepper stands next to him. And she's holding a little girl in her arms. 

This is news. She hadn't known. But then, Jane thinks, nobody knows, given the way they press into the shadows, as if they could hide themselves and their daughter from the real world and the prying eyes. 

The conference _really_ was a mistake. 

Her grief is a physical entity, larger than life and always looming in the shadows. And part of her hates Tony for having something so precious, when her own daughter is gone, her ashes carried away into the ether. Tears spring to her eyes and she wipes them away angrily.

Janes watches as Tony bends over to press a kiss to the toddler's hair, then one to Pepper's cheek. 

Jane turns around and heads back the way she came from as fast as possible. She hopes they haven't seen her. She cannot bear to look them in the eyes, cannot be witness to this any longer. They don’t deserve her envy for being happy. 

Once upon a time they were something like friends, colleagues who understood the kind of crazy life they were thrown into. Now they are nothing but a living picture of the life that has been taken from her.

She can't deal with them, she can't be civil to them, she cannot look at their daughter and make a friendly face. Nobody knows what she has lost. She has always kept her daughter's existence a secret and it saves her endless rounds of condolences. That Jane is grateful for. She can’t imagine having to shoved into her face again and again. 

But she cannot pretend that she hasn't. 

-

_nine._

High above her distant stars twinkle in and out of visibility. She had to get some fresh air. She knows he'll find her, hopes as much anyway, other options are too painful to be entertained. Jane understands how she does not deserve to be forgiven, even if she's adamant she'll not ask for it.

"I think if I had found out about her years ago I would've laid siege to the whole facility," Thor admits, behind her. His footsteps on the soft grass were so soundless his appearance surprises Jane. "Now, I'm just tired."

He sits down on the bench to her, gazing up into the same night sky. They are not touching, but they could if one of them bridged the distance. 

"Why did you not tell me about her?"

It's the one question she's had years to prepare for and yet words elude her. 

"We just broke up," Jane tries. "I didn't want you to abandon Asgard for us."

"I would have."

Jane shakes her head, smiling sadly. "I know. But I simply couldn't let that happen. I knew I didn't want my child to be a pawn in a game I was unprepared to play. I wanted her to have a normal life. And I wanted you to focus on what mattered for your kingdom."

"I would have liked a say in the matter," he says, his voice raising slightly. "You mattered." 

"I know, and I'm sorry I hurt you. But I would do it again." She can see the hurt, the accusation in his eyes, but she's unwavering in her decision.

"You've spent weeks in New Asgard, much of it in my company. Do you see me so unfit to be somebody's father to not even tell me now?"

"No!," Jane all but shouts in his face. "No, of course I don't. But I just... couldn't. You told me about what happened with Hela, how you lost Odin and Loki, Heimdall and so many of your people. I couldn't burden you with it." 

"Again, I would have liked to have a choice." 

"I know," she whispers once again. "I was too scared you would resent me if I told you the truth." 

Thor continues to stare at his clasped hands, unmoving. "What's her name?" _Present tense_.

"Freyja Asteria Foster."

"You gave her an Asgardian name?" Surprise colours his voice. 

"Took me a while, to be honest. But it fits her so well. Asteria comes from Greek origin, it means 'star'."

"How did she exhibit her powers at such a young age?"

"She just did. Glowed like a lightning bug. It surprised Heimdall too."

Thor narrows his eyes. "He knew?"

"Yes, and he agreed with me." 

They both lapse in silence, more comfortable now than before. 

"Do you think it will work?" he asks eventually. 

"It has to. I don't think we'll get another chance as good as this one. And I won't abandon hope. It's all I have left." 

Thor takes her hand and laces it with his own atop his thigh. Jane’s heart misses a beat. Maybe she’s lied to herself, maybe she feels remorse for her actions. Because this feels like absolution, like a choir of heavenly angels when she only believes in herself and the scientific truths of the world. 

“I missed you,” she whispers into the nights, like a confessional box.

He places a kiss on her temple, so soft she almost can’t feel it, but it burns in all the right ways. Maybe this is a forgiveness she doesn’t deserve so easily. Maybe this is a kind of love only visible through the lenses of loss. 

-

_ii._

  
  


This is where she decides she will not let it rest.

She wants back what was taken from her without her consent. 

She will not rest.

Not until her daughter is back home with her, not until her heart is beating again.

  
  


_

_ten._

  
  


The plan is simple in theory. They go back in time and kill Thanos before he destroys the stones. Then Wanda will conjure an illusion of Thanos, the one Thor beheads. Then they will go back home and use the stones to undo the damage.

Easy. 

Jane isn’t allowed on the TTT (time travel team), deemed too important to be sent to the past. It’s probably for the best. One second the Avengers are on the platform and the next they are gone. 

Ten seconds have never felt so long. They tick away, grain of sand after another. Ten seconds pass, twenty, thirty. Her eyes don’t stray from the monitors, but everything looks good. 

And suddenly, they return in a flash of light. All six of them, with the Infinity Stones in their hands. 

The timeline holds.

They’ve done it. 

_Easy._

She wants to use them ASAP, but they decide to give each other another 48 hours to recover and prepare. Jane tries to find sleep, but mostly she keeps pacing and studying the frequency of the stones. They are real.

Eventually it’s time. 

"Are we ready?" 

They look around the table at each other, the noble knights of a strange new old world. They all nod in agreement. 

They are six, six stones and six heroes. Jane and the Aether, Thor has the Tesseract, Wanda the Mind Stone. Bruce will wield the Power Stone, Tony the Time Stone and Steve the Soul Stone. 

Jane unwraps the cloth from the containment holding the Aether. She feels its familiar power, waiting to be unleashed once more. But she is prepared for it. She will not be surprised. 

All of them focus the stream of their stone on the custom-made lens in front of them, courtesy of the Wakadian princess Shuri. The power inside the large hangar is already filling up to the brim, despite the open gates. 

It's an indescribable feeling and Jane can't imagine putting all six stones together into one hand and let that singular person be in charge of it. It's too much, it could only ever lead to destruction. 

This is how it's meant to be done - a group project between equal partners, friends, lovers. The power of the Infinity Stones was always meant to be wielded as part of a team, she thinks. It’s what the universe is meant to be, a unity. 

Jane looks over at Thor, who is sitting opposite her. She knows he’d rather be watching over the whole affair, ready to charge in at any moment, as their guardian. She and him both - the whole team, really - know that should something go awry even the powerful King of Asgard, god of Thunder, would be unable to save them. But he'd die trying and that had to be enough. As it is, they need him to take care of the Tesseract. It has absorbed Asgardian magic from all the times Loki has wielded it and he’s the best fit. 

Clint and Natasha have an eye on them, their faces unreadable masks. 

Each stone grows brighter and brighter by the second, until all Jane sees is a red halo enveloping her. But on the other side of the lens, as the colours are pooled together, there's the most glorious rainbow she's ever been witness to. Something out of a myth, this had to be where leprechauns must hide their pot of gold. 

They hadn't found a definite plan on how precisely to voice the wish to undo all of what Thanos has wrecked, but now as they are in the middle of it, it comes out of nowhere. Their thoughts seem to align on the same wavelength, joined together by the same rainbow. 

All six of them think the same thing as they are bathed in the various lights of the stones, their powers burying them alive. The Aether grows stronger, feeding on its brothers and sisters, on her. But Jane will not die, not until she has her daughter back. 

Slowly, brick by brick, reality falls away around them. Jane finds herself in a liminal space, not unlike Wal-Mart at 2am in the morning, an abandoned gas station in the desert. It's real and unreal, all at once. It doesn't concern her. She still feels the others around her. 

Her only thought is Freyja, Darcy, Erik - all the lives lost to a concept that would only bring pain and destruction. She doesn't let the Aether have her, not this time. An eternity and a second pass at once and she only thinks about bringing them back. It's the one thing she wants.

Tears run down her face, from pain or grief or exhaustion, she cannot tell. Jane only knows they don't matter. Her muscles quiver under the weight of holding the Aether, which grows heavier by the minute. It wants to worm it's way back into her body, already knowing the structure of her heart. But her mantra, _Freyja Freyja Freyja_ keeps it at bay. 

The power grows still, until it can’t be contained anymore. 

Suddenly there's one loud sound - an explosion - and she feels herself airborne. Jane crashes on the ground, a sharp pain in her hip. The breath is knocked from her lungs. The rib she cracked with her stunt in New Asgard is now broken for real, she can tell.

But it’s a price she’s willing to pay.

Jane looks around. There are multiple bodies spread around the room, but everybody exhibits one or another sign of life. 

They are alive, all of them.

"Well, this was an experience, ladies and gentlemen," Tony says and laughs, but even he is rattled, she realises.

They are alive and that's all she needs to know. Steve is already up, wiping the dust from his uniform. “Did it work?” 

_It has to._

She lets Thor crawl towards her and scoop her into his arms. It’s been quite a while since she’s felt so protected. “Are you okay,” he asks or at least it’s what Jane understands above the ringing in her ears. She nods.

The smoke clears. In the middle of the room, where the table they’ve sat at only moments earlier, are standing people. They are coughing. Jane knows these people. There the boy in the Spiderman suit and Barnes and Strange. And there among the rubble, only reaching to their knees stands a little girl with glowing skin.

Jane can barely move. Every muscle, every bone in her body hurts, but it doesn’t matter. She rises to wobbly knees and runs over as fast as her legs let her, falling to her maltreated knees. 

“Mama.”

She closes her arms around Freyja and breathes. Inside Jane the broken pieces of her soul slot back together again, shattered pottery mended with gold. She feels tears rolling down her cheeks and falling on her daughter’s head. 

But it doesn’t matter in the least.

Because she has her back.

Because Thor will meet their daughter. 

Because they’ve won. 

-

_i._

_Freyja._

-

  
  


_eleven._

Farther up the equator, a few hours away from New Asgard, one can see the Northern Lights. 

In the middle of the night Jane stands under a sky of stars, the green and blue of the Aurora illuminating the night. 

It's freezing, the snow piling up to her knees. Freyja is almost sinking in it. But she shrieks with laughter, her skin glowing faintly green, mimicking the Aurora above. It looks a little sickly, too much like a kiwi, but it's adorable nonetheless. 

Jane could do nothing but watch her all day and night, never letting her out of sight. Some nights the nightmares still haunt her and she wakes up gasping for air, crying for her daughter. Those nights she sits at Freyja's bedside and holds her hands until dawn comes and the sunlight chases her demons away. 

It's not healthy, she'll have to develop better coping mechanisms in the future, she knows, but that's for another time. For when the high of victory will fade and they'll have to deal with the reality of the battle won. Half the population was gone and is now back again. But it's a future problem. They've made it, they've won. 

Now she watches as Freyja trudges through the snow, being her own little flashlight, trying to step into her father's huge footprints. Literally. 

Thor wraps an arm around Jane's middle, placing his head on her shoulder. It continues to be new, even if they've had it before. Life isn’t all fairytales and happy endings, but for now Jane hopes it is. The swooping sensation in her stomach doesn't stop. 

She hopes it won't be for a long time coming. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this. If you've come this far I owe you, because this is a lot of self-indulgent word-vomit to heal the mess that I consider the MCU canon. Endgame was ultimately a very nostalgic movie, meant to give the audience a good feeling. (Did I cry too? Yes.) But the more I thought about it the more I disliked it. I will not go into the mess that is the Time Heist, as well as Steve's fate, because it hurts my brain and my intelligence.
> 
> It's taken me two years to write this fic and I'm glad it's finally finished. 2020 was a hard year and this is my parting gift. 
> 
> ANYWAY, now we come to the most important part: Giving credit to those who deserve it.
> 
> If you want good time travel, please watch 12 Monkeys (TV Show), because it's 4 seasons of fantastic character development and writing. The way Jane and the team bring back the Infinity Stones comes from one of the best episodes from this show (or ever). (Terry Matalas can have some rights, as a treat.)
> 
> Freyja's powers are partly inspired by gifs from Karolina Dean as well as SPOILER ALERT a character from the first book in the Sarah J. Maas series House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City).
> 
> In Norse mythology Frigg and Freyja are two different characters, while in the comics I have found the names used synonymous. 
> 
> Also, I wrote the snake scene ages ago and only now while editing realised that that’s something that happened in Percy Jackson, so Rick Riordan owns that one. 
> 
> I do not claim to have the perfect answer and I'll also admit that this fic wouldn't have made a compelling movie, but I loved writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it. If that's the case, please feel free to leave kudos and comments, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. <3
> 
> Much love and a happy and healthy 2021 to all of you and your loved ones.


End file.
